looking for a run in
by savisnire
Summary: In which Dean's the ex-pornstar turned bartender, Castiel is the rich weirdo dressed like Columbo, and Sam's the big fancy Lawyer who brought them together by accident.
1. the run in

**Found this online and is a must read!**

* * *

"**Looking For a Run-In"**

The first time they met was on a rainy Tuesday in September.

_Fact: Public Parking Lots are nothing short of highway robbery, _Dean thinks as he feeds the meter eight dollars in coins for the hour. A countdown clock appears on screen, and he mentally tells the machine to shove it when it orders him to have a nice day. His shift ran late at the Roadhouse last night; if he wasn't so worried about Sam bitching at him for being late again, he could be catching up on some glorious sleep. Instead, he's driving across town for a stupid lunch date with his nerdy brother.

To top it off, he's so hungry his stomach feels like it's collapsing in on itself, and the grey clouds overhead spell rain.

_God dammit.  
_

It doesn't matter that Dean's been in West and Allen's Professional Accounting Services Building once a week for the past year and then some; he still feels under-dressed and overwhelmed every time he enters the lobby. The room is a traffic hazard, what with the blinding shininess of... well, everything. There are hot secretaries behind a large desk taking names and numbers (and occasionally giving them out, if Dean's extra suave that day), large elevators that play hacked up instrumental versions of top hits, and cameras set up at every fucking corner, because apparently this building is important enough to give a shit about.

And Sammy is the big-shot top lawyer who actually works here.

Dean can't help it if a grin slips across his face while he plops himself down on one of the large couches to wait. His pride in his baby brother knows no bounds.  
But if Sam thinks he's getting out of buying lunch today, he's totally getting itching powder in his pants again.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a total mooch? Because you're a total mooch." At this point, Sam crosses his arms. "Seriously Dean, I paid last week - it's your turn."

"Dude come on! I just fed the meter a friggin' wishing well's in coins! And I gotta get gas! Have a heart, Sammy!"

His brother grumbles and pushes some hair out of his eyes. "It's Sam, you jerk." Sam pulls Bitchface #37 - _Get my name right, you're embarrassing me in public, oh my god, Dean, stop it _- and starts walking towards the doors. Dean tries not to smirk.

"Bitch, cut your hair. You look like Rapunzel." He reaches over and tugs on a luscious lock to make a point, until Sam slaps his hand away, eyes darting nervously around the foyer for any colleagues who might be watching. "I do not. And I like it this length, I can tuck it behind my ears now."

"So that all the boys know that you're a no-nonsense girl?"

"Oh, shut up. You're one to- Crap, it's raining isn't it?" Sam sighs as they take about five steps outside. Dean counts this conversation as a win for him, but because Sammy is such a prissy bitch, he turns around and makes Dean follow him back inside and wait in the lobby again, so that Sam can get his fancy lawyer jacket from all the way upstairs.

Dean doesn't complain, though - not outwardly, anyways. He's got a theory that if his brother is exposed to too much water, he'll melt like that green bitch from the Wizard of Oz. And then who would pay for Dean's lunch?

He walks back to the couches and wonders how much sleep he could catch before Sam comes back, when an unusually loud voice grabs his attention.

It's coming from the other side of the lobby, and by the looks of it, belongs to this mean-looking fucker standing over a smaller guy in a trenchcoat.

Sergeant Hartman (_this guy is freaking loud_) says something about a family and someone being an ingrate, and as Dean moves a little closer he can pick out a few choice curses that make the secretaries, listening nearby, wince. Trenchcoat just stands there with a blank look on his face,_ taking it_, and something about it makes Dean's stomach twist. Or maybe that's just hunger. Anyways.

Normally, Dean would walk away or pretend not to notice. It's really none of his business and, who knows? Maybe the guy getting reamed out deserves the verbal shitstorm hitting him in the face. But maybe because today' s been kind of shitty, or because he's been yelled at so much in his own life that he hates watching it happen to other people, Dean walks up beside the two-man show and interrupts by putting a hand on the big guy's shoulder.

"Dude. Indoor voice," he suggests, in the most commanding voice he can muster.

Big Guy turns his head and stares at Dean's hand, looking confused. Then he notices there's an arm attached and finally Dean's presence clicks in his head. He pulls a stink-face. "Excuse me?" he demands.

"No offence, man, but I'd like to leave with my hearing intact, y'know? Pretty sure everyone else here does too. It's a rare person who can pull off the hearing aid look. Then again, Cindy over there is pretty fine and can pull off just about anything, lucky girl." At this point Dean nods to the blonde secretary in question, who blushes and pretends to type. "Me, though, I just don't think I can rock it. So maybe stop yelling at this poor guy, and do the rest of us a favour and take a walk."

Trenchcoat just stares at Dean with these wide blue eyes, as the other man glares at him in a way that says,_ I would take great pleasure in your death, so get the fuck out of my face._ Dean wonders if the angry constipated look is something that happens to everyone, or just this guy. Out loud, the larger man says, "This is none of your business. Stay out of it." Dean thinks he catches something like _insect_ or _maggot_ at the end, but his ears are kind of buzzing from the volume, so he could be mistaken.

He shrugs. "Then don't do it in a public place."

The other guy's glare intensifies and Dean's sure he'd be halfway to hell by now if looks could kill. Ah well.

Bring it on.

"You listen to me, you li-"

Dean stops him and pulls himself up to his full height which, while not as tall as the big man, is not insubstantial. "No, you listen," he bites out, losing patience. "This is supposed to be a professional building, right? Then act like a professional and take your stupid problems somewhere else - preferably somewhere in the vicinity of an anger management clinic. You think bitching this poor guy out in front of a crowd makes you a big man? You're pathetic. People here have work to do and appointments to dread, so why don't you just fuck off and save the shouting match for your next redneck Thanksgiving?"

Everyone - employees and clients alike - are all staring, and Dean hopes at least one of them will have the decency to call 911 if the other guy decides to throw the first punch. He really doesn't want to drag himself back to the hospital again.

The man really seems to think about this, if his shaking fists are of any indication, but whatever action he planned on taking halts when a security guard finally approaches.

Growling but releasing his fists, he spits, "You should mind your mouth, boy. I will find you. And when I do you will wish you'd never taken your first breath."

Dean holds up his hands and twists his face into mock-fear. "Oh lordy, forgive me, sir," he gasps with mock alarm, "I'll never stand up to a loud-mouthed dick again!"

Eyes still promising to end Dean and all future generations of Winchester, guy storms off and nearly breaks one of the big ass doors on his way out.

Dean snorts. "Jackass."

He turns, expecting Trenchcoat to be super stoked by the fact that Dean just rescued his ass (and ears), or yell at him to mind his own business next time. Instead he does neither, and just stares hard enough that he could be trying to burn a hole into Dean's head. Weird.

"Uh. You ok now dude?" Dean asks. Smiling, he gives the guy a quick once-over. Not counting the odd staring thing, the guy's fine, in both senses of the word, in a cute, nerdy way. His blue suit looks a little rumpled, his tie's not done up right and the trenchcoat would give parents nightmares of playground indecencies, but the soft-looking sex hair and striking blue eyes make Dean nod appreciatively.

Were he still working his old job, and this guy showed up, maybe Dean would have stuck with it longer. Or rather, been stuck _on_ it longer (_ha_). Then again, the fact that the guy is still staring is kind of creepy, and maybe he's into weird kinky shit - in that case, Dean will pass. Too much stress goes with that crap.

Waving a hand in front of Trenchcoat's face, Dean tries not to be too creeped-out when he doesn't even blink. "Hello?" he calls. "You in there, Constantine?" Blue eyes shift slightly upwards and lock onto Dean's, and the intensity makes Dean gulp and try to ignore the pull in his stomach again. The guy's got a really piercing gaze, and for a moment Dean wonders if he's melting his brain with laser vision or something.

Not that Dean's paying special attention to the state of his mouth or anything, but he notices that he guys lips are chapped when they part, as though he's about to say something. That is, until a Sasquatch hand taps Dean on the shoulder. He spins around instantly, thinking that the other guy's changed his mind about backing the fuck off, but instead slams into Sam's chest.

"Woah! Easy, Dean!" Sam looks stupidly smug as Dean steps back and brushes himself off.

"Jesus, Sammy, Do you benchpress while you work?" he snaps. "Touching you is like running into a brick shithouse!"

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets._ Bitch_. "Whatever. Ready to go?"

"Yeah sure, don't mind me while I fix my broken face. I just gotta check... on... huh?" Dean rubs his eyes and blinks to make sure he's not going crazy. Trenchcoat's gone, practically poofed out of thin air. What the hell? Is he part of the Matrix or something? Dean looks around the room to see if anyone looks out of place, but no such luck.

Sam just quirks an eyebrow. "What? Who are you looking for?"

Dean takes one last look around and shakes his head. "No one. Nevermind. Let's go, I'm fucking starving."

"You're always starving."

"Shut up, Sam."

"You know, if you grew a beard I bet people would think you were the late John Lennon."

Sam pulls Bitchface #23 - _I don't have to impress you!_ - and takes another sip of his health shake. "I'm not cutting it. Let it go." His salad meets an untimely end.

Dean's bacon cheddar burger is no luckier. It's too fucking delicious for its own good. "When you blow-dry it, do you feel like McGyver?"

"Only when I'm wearing your jacket."

Dean's too busy giving in to the demands of his appetite to come back with something. Sammy can have this round.

The hour passes quickly as usual, and before Dean knows it the check is on the table and the hot waitress' number in his pocket. Sam grumbles as he pulls out a bunch of bills from his wallet and, despite his earlier words, Dean throws a few fives down to cover his share.

"By the way, Lady Lovely Locks, I got something to ask you," he says, on their way out.

Sam scowls, suspicious, as Dean unlocks the doors of the Impala. "What is it?"

"Just curious, but... There doesn't happen to be a weird guy in a flasher's coat who works in your building, is there?" Dean glances back over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking lot, and heads towards the highway. "Y'know... Black spiky hair, blue eyes... likes to stare silently at people... Any of this sound familiar to you?"

Without hesitation, Sam blinks and asks, "Why, do you owe him money?"

"No!" Dean huffs as he passes another car.

"Sleep with his girlfriend?"

"Sam!"

"...his boyfriend?"  
"Oh my god, Sam, shut up," mutters Dean, as Sam laughs beside him. He'd consider the silent treatment if he didn't actually want to know the answer. "In all seriousness, though. You know a guy like that?"

Sam tilts his head back and _hmm_'s to himself as he thinks. "Well... there's one guy...tenth floor I think? I don't know his name or anything but he's the only one I know who wears a trenchcoat year round. He might be your man." He smirks, undoing his seatbelt once the car rolls to a stop. "You don't have his shoe or anything, do you, Prince Charming? You could knock on every office in the building and see who it fits."

In response, Dean punches him in the arm. "I don't need to take this from a fucking Yeti. Here's your stupid... lawyer... banker... building... office..." Dean trails off lamely. "You know what? Just get out, bitch." He's grumbling as he shoves Sam, laughing, out of the car.

Little brothers. _God_.

When he gets home, his answering machine has three messages on it: the first from Jo, begging him to cover for her on Friday, the second from the cable company reminding him that his subscriptions to the _Hustler_, _Playboy_, and _Soap_ channels will expire by the end of the month... and the third from Alistair. Dean deletes it before the machine can play it past the second word.

That twisted fucker can call all he wants, Dean's not going back. Not again.

He grabs a beer from the fridge and flops down on the couch; time to get his Xbox on. _Limbo_ is loaded up and ready to go from the last save point. Normally, it's fun. The game is twisted and creepy and makes even dying multiple times interesting, but the main character has these striking blue eyes and messy dark hair, and honestly it makes Dean a little uncomfortable when a saw blade chops his head off.  
He gives up after a few minutes, and turns on _Hustler_ instead.

They don't meet again for three weeks, and by that point Dean's almost forgotten about Trenchcoat Man and his strange staring habits. The new college semester is just starting, which spells out major business for any and all bars in the area. Drunk kids are always good for a laugh and a tip and Dean's never takes so many numbers out of his pants as he does when school's in session.

All in all, an awesome three weeks.

But now it's Tuesday again, and unless Dean wants to break a longstanding tradition, he needs to get the fuck going. He wastes about five minutes looking for his keys before realizing they're in his hand, and runs out of his apartment at light speed. Taking the stairs two at a time, he even manages to resist hitting on the cute goth girl checking her mailbox on his way down.

The reason for the rush is Sammy, who threatened to take Dean to Mucho Burrito if he was late one more time. And it doesn't matter how decent their food is; the gas that comes out of his brother afterwards is enough to take out a small village. Not to mention, even _Dean's_ ass hurts like hell an hour after eating there. It's lose-lose, and better to just be on time.

As it turns out, though, he's got nothing to worry about. His phone rings just as he's trying to merge on to one of the busiest fucking roads in the city, and Dean fumbles in his pocket with one hand while trying not to die with the other. Who says multitasking isn't a talent?

"What?!" he spits out as he tries not to swerve into oncoming traffic.

"Oh, crap," chirps Sam, "I didn't interrupt you in the middle of jacking off again, did I?"

Dean glares out the windshield as he regains control of his precious car again. "No, I would've made you listen to me finish first. What's wrong? Hurry up, I'm driving during lunch hour. Someone is going to die if I don't get off the phone, and I really don't want it to be me."

He can practically see Sam roll his eyes over the phone. "Whatever. Listen, I'm just calling to say that I'm a bit behind schedule. It's nothing major, but I need to make a few calls and fax a few things, so just come up to my office when you get here. You know which floor, right?"

"If I didn't know you think I'm an idiot, I'd guess you were fishing for compliments, Sammy." Dean grins as he pictures Sam getting all blushy and flustered. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. It's the top floor, man. I got it." He hits the End button just in time to fly through a yellow light at the last second. Skills.

The secretaries wave to him as he walks past them towards the elevator. Cindy in particular seems to smile a little wider than usual. Then again, she's been a lot sweeter ever since he stood up to that guy a few weeks ago: apparently she digs him now that she realizes he's got balls. Nice.

A bunch of people get out as the gold elevator doors slide open, and oddly enough, Dean is left the elevator's sole remaining occupant when they close. The speakers in the corner emit a cheesy instrumental version of _What Is Love_, and Dean doesn't feel at all ashamed when he starts nodding his head to the side along with the beat.

Until the doors open on third, that is, and he finds Trenchcoat Man staring at him again.

Neither of them says a word until Dean decides he's had enough. "...Uh. Hi," he says weakly. _Smooth, Winchester. Smooth.  
_  
Trenchcoat does nothing more than tilt his head and blink before stepping into the tiny space with Dean. The motion reminds Dean of some kind of bird. Maybe a Heron... or an Ostrich... or a-

"That's from _A Night at the Roxbury_, yes?"

It's not generally a opening line that makes Dean want to get naked, but holy hell this guy has a fucking sexy voice. All deep and gravelly and... and he should really say something because the guy is staring again.

"Um. What?" He cringes. _Dean, you sly fox, you._

Trenchcoat tilts his head again. "The... movements of your head. They do that in the movie _A Night at the Roxbury_. Am I wrong?"

Dean feels his face heat up and coughs into his fist. "Oh. Uh... yeah... I mean, no. I mean, yes it's from that movie, you're right."

For about five seconds it's completely silent in the elevator. Then Dean remembers he's Dean fucking Winchester and awkward elevator rides are not on his list of things to do today. He clears his throat and plasters on his most winning smile. "Whatever, man. I like that movie. And you gotta admit, that stupid song is catchy."

The other guy finally stops staring long enough to press one of the buttons next to the door. "My brother convinced me to watch it with him a while ago," he admits. "It's not something I'd usually pick out, but I was... pleasantly surprised."

Dean chuckles and leans back against the wall. "Yeah, my little brother makes me watch chick flicks, of all things. Don't tell anyone, though... I wouldn't wanna damage Sammy's big, bad, lawyer street cred."

Like he's lost in thought, Trenchcoat narrows his eyes slightly. "Sammy...? You wouldn't happen to be talking about Sam Winchester, would you?"

"The one and only! I'm his big brother." Another twinge of pride fills him as he thinks of how far Sammy's come and all that he's accomplished. Apparently even weirdos know who he is. Awesome. Dean remembers to extend his hand at the last second, manners not totally forgotten. "I'm Dean. Who are you?"

Trenchcoat looks away to stare at the doors instead of Dean's face. He'd feel dismissed if they weren't such nice doors... But then again, that's not the point.

When the response finally comes, the guy mutters, "... Castiel."

Unable to help himself, Dean snorts. "Really? Who came up with _that_?" Dean feels his lips quirk up when _Castiel _gets a sort of annoyed look on his face. Obviously he's had this conversation before, but it doesn't make the expression any less cute.

"My family is very religious," he grudgingly explains, after a beat. "Castiel is the name of an Angel, though not a very common one."

Dean shrugs and scratches his arm. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I was named after my grandma." Castiel looks at him dubiously and Dean grins back. "Usually I lie and say I was named after James Dean instead. Sounds way cooler, and chicks dig it."

Castiel nods and looks away again. He must be bored of Dean's facial structure, Dean thinks, which is totally weird because Dean is fucking hot shit. But whatever, to each his own.

At this point Dean should really just stop talking and enjoy the long boring ride up to Sammy's office, but as usual his mouth decides to run off without consulting his brain first. "So, that mean son of a bitch I saw you with a few weeks ago... He hasn't come back, has he?

Castiel shakes his head. "No. Raphael has not spoken to me since that day. I believe he's doing his business... elsewhere now. According to my brother Gabriel, he is pretending I do not exist. This will make the next family reunion rather awkward, I think."

Dean's sniggering - seriously? Who names their kid Raphael in this day and age? - skids into shocked silence when Castiel finishes his sentence. Eventually he manages, "Woah! You're related to that asshole?" Castiel nods. "Wow." He whistles. "Strong resemblance." Raphael looked like he could have been an enforcer for a Mob boss; unless he'd been adopted, Dean would never have found a reason to link him and Castiel together in his mind.

"Not really." Apparently Castiel doesn't know what sarcasm is. Good to know.

That still doesn't explain, well... anything, thinks Dean. "How come he was such a dick to you, then? I mean, if you're family... Not that it's any of my business or anything."

Castiel sighs and props himself up against the wall in a similar fashion to Dean. "He wanted me to... do something illegal about his tax returns," he says reluctantly. "I denied his request. He was not pleased, to say the least."

Dean snorts. "I'll say. Whatever, man. He's the one being a douchebag. Way to do the right thing, Cas."

"You... really think so?"

Dean smiles at the surprised expression that materializes on Castiel's face. Something about his quiet tone makes Dean wonder if the guy actually thought he was at fault for obeying the goddamn law. He already knew Raphael was a dick, but now he can add "shitty brother" to the list as well. Nothing pisses Dean off more than people who don't do right by their blood. "Duh," he says. "_He's_ the one trying to cheat the system. You're just doing your job. And, like... can't you go to jail for helping with that shit? He should be grateful you didn't tell anyone else what he wanted to do." Dean pauses. "Besides, y'know, me. But I don't even work here, so your secret's safe with me."

Castiel cocks his head, seeming genuinely interested. "What do you do?"

"I'm a bartender," Dean says, his tone a combination of pride and warmth, because he really fucking loves his job. He doesn't care if it isn't high-powered or flashy; he's one of the best there is at it.

Although Cas looks like he's about to say something else, the bell dings and the doors open up to reveal the eighteenth floor. Without another word, he glances at Dean and slowly walks out of the elevator as the doors start to close. Dean sighs and leans his head back against the elevator paneling, tapping his foot as the awful music tinkers on, glad to have at least gotten Castiel's name. But the doors don't close all the way before an arm flies out between them.

As they reopen, Castiel stands on the other side looking all too adorable in his rumpled clothes and flyaway hair. Maybe, Dean figures, he forgot something, or-

"Dean..." Cas begins, albeit hesitantly, "thank you. For earlier. You didn't have to put yourself out like that for my sake." Castiel stares deep into his eyes and Dean swears he has to have some kind of hypnotic power within that gaze. "I am grateful."

Dean could make a joke about exactly how much time he's spent 'putting himself out for others', but he doesn't think the timing's appropriate and isn't sure Cas would get the joke, anyway. Instead, he just shoots a small smile the guy's way and nods. "Anytime. You just try to stay out of trouble, Cas," he says with a wink.

He thinks maybe a faint pink colors Castiel's cheeks, but the doors close before he can know for sure.

A month passes and they don't speak again, though every time Dean visits he sees Castiel in the lobby sitting by one of the massive windows, eating by himself. Dean thinks he looks like a loner in a high school cafeteria. He'd go over and sit with him if he wasn't meeting Sam, or if Castiel didn't look totally absorbed in watching people walk past the window. Then again, there's probably some kind of breakroom in the building, and if Cas really wanted, he could eat in his office.

In the end, Dean shrugs it off as just another quirk, and walks past him every time.

Meanwhile, somewhere around mid-October, he and Sam's stupid tradition breaks.

As always, Dean rides the elevator back up to Sam's floor, walks down the big hallway and enters the huge office. Normally Sam meets him downstairs, but Dean didn't see him and couldn't reach him by phone, so he decided to meet him upstairs instead. Since Alistair somehow got a hold of his cell number and hadn't stopped calling all night, Dean had turned it off and forgotten it on the coffee table on his way out.

The second he opens the door to Sam's office, he realizes that this was a mistake. Sam is sitting behind his desk talking to some old lady who, by the looks of it, is trying to give his little brother a footjob beneath his desk. It's impossible not to laugh when Sam moves back and the old lady just brings her seat closer. When Sam whips his head, he gives Dean a look that's torn between annoyance and gratitude.

Looking back to whom Dean assumes is a client (either that, or Sammy's taking the cougar thing to a whole new level), Sam forces out a businesslike smile. "I'm so sorry, Gertrude, please excuse me for a moment." He stands up faster than Dean's ever thought possible as Gertrude smiles back.

"Alright," says Gertrude, "but don't leave me hanging too long, Sam... I _do_ hate a tease." She winks and it takes all of Dean's willpower not to explode into laughter right then and there. Sam is unamused.

"I called you over and over for an hour, why didn't you turn on your phone?" Sam mutters as he leads Dean into the hall and closes the door behind them.

"I forgot to turn it off last night and it died this morning," Dean lies and shrugs his shoulders carelessly. "Sorry, Sammy, if I'd known you had a hot date, I would've waited downstairs." He grins wide as Sam sighs and slumps his shoulders.

"She's a client," he grumbles. "I would say no but she asks for me specifically, and-"

"You're worried that the necklace from _Titanic_ would be lost forever if you did?"

"-AND she's one of the Firm's most longstanding clients. She practically pays for this office." Sammy's whiny teenage voice flashes in Dean's memory and he does his best to keep a straight face.

"So she's your sugar-mama then? Damn, no wonder you're always wearing those fancy monkey suits." A look of _oh my god, Dean, you're impossible _comes his way and his lips tug upwards before he can force them back down.

"I didn't think this appointment would run so late, but we've been having trouble getting... down to busine- Dean I swear to god I will punch you in the mouth- business, and I have to work through lunch to get all the legal stuff finalized. So I'm really sorry, but I can't go with you today." To his credit, Sam does look like he'd rather be lecturing Dean on cholesterol in some cafeteria than subjected to sexual harassment in his office.

Taking pity on the kid, Dean says, "Yeah... okay. No worries, Sammy." But then again, Dean is his big brother, dammit. Opportunities like these are too good to pass up. "... But does Morgan Freeman know that you're 'taking care' of Miss Daisy this afternoon?"  
The sound of the office door slamming does nothing to silence Dean's laughter.

By the time the elevator reaches the first floor, Dean's finally managed to calm down, or at least enough so that people wouldn't look at him like he's a psycho. When he gets home he's probably going to start laughing all over again anyway.

Since he came all this way, though, he thinks maybe he should stop and get some food first. Glancing towards the windows to see if there are any good restaurants nearby, he notices Castiel. Or rather, the back of Castiel's head. The weirdo's staring outside again, intense as ever. Dean has no plans to stop, but he notices that, unlike the past few times he's seen Cas, this time he's not eating anything.

And Dean really should just ignore him again and leave. He should not be walking towards the guy and putting his car keys back in his pocket. And he definitely shouldn't tap him on the shoulder and smile when Cas turns his head to look at him, but Dean's a badass and generally does things he shouldn't all the time.

"Hey," he says.

Castiel blinks. "Hello."

Dean takes a few steps closer to the window and looks outside, trying to figure out what has Castiel so fascinated. "Was there a car crash or something?"

Cas does that head tilt that's just too cute for words, and looks confused. "No. I do not believe so... Why do you ask?"

"I dunno, figured something interesting was happening. You were looking outside at something pretty intensely." Dean feels a little weird standing while Cas sits - and it has nothing to do with the fact that his crotch just happens to be perfectly level with Cas's face - so he plops himself down on one of the big leather chairs to his left. Castiel doesn't seem to mind the company, so Dean continues. "Then again, I see you staring out this window every time I come by. Do you like the view?" And if this isn't the most awkward small talk of his life, he doesn't know what is.

There's no sign of a response from Castiel, and if Dean didn't see his chest moving with breath, he'd think Cas was some kind of Android.

After a pause that seems to stretch on forever, Cas explains, "It is not so much the view as the people passing by."

"Yeah? what's so great about them?" Dean leans forward in his seat, trying to crane his neck to see what Cas means.

Beneath the beige trenchcoat, shoulders rise and fall in less than a millisecond; a shrug, Dean supposes. "They're all so...diverse," says Castiel. "So unique. Each and every person walking by has their own individual story to tell, their own life. All of them are thinking different thoughts about a million different things as they pass each other. I wonder, sometimes... The people who pass by us: will we ever see them again? Will we even remember them? Will they remember others that they pass?" Castiel takes a breath and folds his hands. "I think about this as I see them all and I suppose my mind simply runs away with me."

Dean just looks at the smaller man beside him, unsure of what to say. "I... guess I've never thought of that before. That's pretty deep, man."

Castiel's head tilts down in a small, quick nod. "Usually I've eaten my lunch before I know it, and an hour's gone by without even realizing it."  
At this, Dean has to laugh. He relaxes a bit more into his chair. "I know what you mean. Every time I go out with Sammy, it feels like the time is going way too fast for me. One second we're laughing and walking into some greasy diner, and the next we're back here again." _And out of touch for another week..._

Cas stares at him again with those stupid pretty blue eyes and unfolds his hands. "You and your brother... You're very close, I take it?"

"The closest, man. I used to think we were magnets or something, completely inseparable." Dean cracks another grin as Castiel's face appears to relax a bit, too.

"I used to be close with my brothers as well," says Cas. "My sister, too." He pauses and appears lose himself in thought before speaking again. "Time is such an odd thing. So much can change in so little of it."

"Tell me about it," Dean murmurs as his hand reaches up to touch his throat. It's been a long time, and yet sometimes he swears he can still feel cold hands and stiff leather around it. A shiver passes through him and he quickly changes the subject. "So, speaking of eating... I see you aren't. Finish your lunch already, or are you saving it for later?"

It's a stupid question, but he'll take awkward conversation about food over memories of the worst years of his life, any day. Castiel just shakes his head. "Actually, I overslept a little this morning. In my rush to make it to work, I could not spare the time to make myself anything to eat. It's alright, though; I'm not that hungry anyway."

A loud gurgling noise punctuates the statement, and Dean would make a smart comment about it if it hadn't come from him. "Huh. That's too bad, because I'm starving. I was about to ask if you wanted to blow this popsicle stand and go grab something to eat with me."

Castiel stares at him, but follows without a word when Dean stands and heads towards the doors.

Castiel does not order salad, and Dean's respect for him increases about thirty points. There's also chicken in the pasta thing he ordered, which means he's not a vegetarian or anything - thank god.

It doesn't, however, stop him from looking unimpressed when Dean gulps down his heart attack on a plate in mere seconds. "That... cannot be healthy," Castiel observes. "Especially when you eat it every week."

Dean licks some barbecue sauce off of his hand and takes another bite of his dripping burger. He smiles charmingly around his food. "What can I say? If I die, It'll be because I enjoyed the good things in life." Castiel looks unconvinced, but Dean pretends not to notice and swallows down the rest of the burger, groaning as he does so. "I swear to god, these burgers are better than sex..." From across the table, Cas quirks an eyebrow. "Well, maybe not _all_ sex. The fries are good, too. Want some?" He pushes his plate towards the other man while grabbing some for himself in the process.

Hesitantly, Castiel plucks one from the side and raises it to his lips. Dean tries really hard not to notice how slowly those lips part and how they close again, brushing against the tips of Castiel's long, elegant fingers...

Dean coughs into his hand, breaking off his train of thought. "...So?"

Disappointingly, Castiel swallows and shrugs. "For something with such little nutritional value? They are not bad." But before Dean realizes it, Castiel takes more and eventually it becomes a mental race to see who can finish first and get the last one.

It goes to Castiel. Even though the only person Dean might have relinquished the last fry to is Sammy, for some reason Dean doesn't seem to mind.

The Roadhouse is pretty dead save for the few regulars sitting at the bar. None of them seem to be in a talking mood tonight, either, so Dean's left with Jo for company while he cleans the glasses behind the counter.

"So what's got you in such a good mood?" she asks, noticing his cheerful, happy demeanor. "Did Dr. Piccolo confess her feelings for that new intern?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. She's just on the rebound to make Doctor Sexy jealous. It'll pass." Jo giggles and pretends to wipe down the counter when Ellen gives her a look.

Once her mother looks away again, Jo tries a bit harder. "Seriously though, you're all chipper and bright-eyed. And you're _humming_ while you clean. Did you get lucky last night or something?" She pauses, and from the look on her face it's clear that something unpleasant occurs to her. "Oh, god, it wasn't that British chick who hits on you all the time, was it?"

One of the customers looks at them and takes another drink.

"Shut up, you brat," grumbles Dean, smiling at the customer as if in apology for his coworker's gossiping. "I can't be in a good mood once in awhile?"

Jo gives him a look and doesn't even pretend to work anymore, opting to sit down and watch Dean instead. "You go to see Sam today? That why you're so happy?"

Setting down the glass and picking up another, Dean shrugs. "Well, I went to see him but he was doing overtime with one of the Golden Girls. But I seen this other guy there in the lobby so-"

"Other guy? What other guy?" Jo's face goes bright. She leans forward, hands under her chin, and there's an evil glimmer in her eyes. Dean really should stop talking, but he hasn't been able to tell anyone about Cas yet and it ends up coming up like word vomit.

"His name's Cas. Well, Castiel technically and - I know, it's weird, whatever - he works in Sam's office building..."

With Jo listening intently, Dean gives her a quick recap of how he met Cas - not exaggerating on how he rescued him from Raphael, not at all - how odd he was, how Dean kept seeing him everywhere, and eventually how he asked him to lunch. Jo just nods her head as Dean tells her what Cas likes to eat, about his weird staring habit, and how he talks like he's writing a formal letter all the time.

When he gets to the part about how freaking blue his eyes are, Jo raises her hands and stands up. "Okay, that's enough of that. Seriously, I knew Sam was the chick in your family, but I had no idea you could be such a girl, too."

Dean narrows his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. "Just what are you trying to say, missy?"

She just snorts and puts her hands on her hips. "Well, it's obvious you've got some kind of a huge man-crush on this guy. Frankly, Dean, it's kind of embarrassing."

"I do not!"

Jo smiles wickedly and feigns a high, girlish voice like that of a stage actress. "_And his eyes, oh my god, you should see his eyes! They're the nicest shade of blue I've ever seen!_" She snorts. "Please." Before Dean can throw a rag at her head, she runs off to clear a table in the corner, laughing the whole way.

Dean resents her implication. He is totally not crushing on Cas. At all. Cas is just a really weird but interesting guy.  
Who happens to be really freaking sexy.

And has really nice eyes.

God damn it. Dean _is_ a fucking girl.

He could almost deny that he likes Castiel. If he really put his mind to it, he could say that he generally likes hanging around weird people, or that he's just looking out for a poor schmuck who seems like he's got a shortage of friends.

But it's really hard to pretend he's innocent when his dreams for the next week all involve his hands wrapped in dark, messy hair, rough stubble rubbing up against his thighs, and beautiful long fingers going places that make him want to scream in pleasure.

So Dean figures maybe Jo's right, and that he should just accept it. Move along.

Meaning, he can't wait until Tuesday rolls around again, so he can at least see if Cas has a girlfriend or something. Dean's a lot of things, but a homewrecker isn't one of them. And if Cas is single, well, Dean's never been great at impulse control. And as fantastic as the hot dreams are, he'd rather go for the real thing.

When Tuesday finally arrives, Dean puts on a clean pair of jeans instead of the ones he usually finds at the bottom of the clothespile on the floor, shaves, and takes an extra five minutes to make sure his hair isn't doing anything stupid.

He leaves the bathroom, grabs his keys and is halfway down the hall before he runs back to put on some deodorant.

If that Old Spice Guy is anything to go by, he should smell exactly like the kind of man Castiel wishes his man smelled like.

"How do you _not_ have the body of a sumo wrestler?" Sam wonders that afternoon over lunch. He sips from a glass of water thoughtfully, as though this is truly one of life's most troubling questions.

"Bite me, Sammy."

Sam shakes his head and takes another bite out of his rabbit food. Dean's the one who fucks men, and yet Sam always manages to out-gay him every time they meet up. Unfortunately, Cas doesn't seem to be backing Dean up on this one, either.

Seemingly still fascinated, Sam leans back in his seat while Dean pauses to take several gulps of his drink. "It's like watching a freak show. Just how much more can you stuff in there?"

"It is rather remarkable," agrees Castiel, voice in a similar hushed tone to Sam's. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone eat the way Dean does."

Dammit. Two against one, this is so not fair.

"I know right?" Sam laughs. "I'm waiting for the day he accidentally mistakes his hand for food!"

"This whole ganging up on me thing sucks," Dean points out to them, mouth full. "Let's talk about something else. Hey, Cas, did you know that Sam has three nipples?"

He gets a spoon to the head for that one, but it's worth it.

As Sam tries to tell Castiel that Dean is an asshole who should be avoided at all costs, Dean marvels at how cool his little brother is acting after he invited a total stranger along for their brotherly bonding session. He's still not sure why he did, because he definitely doesn't like cutting into his Sammy time, but the second he saw Cas in the lobby, that thing happened where his mouth opened without his brain's consent, and the words just came out. Even when Cas said he didn't want to interfere with Dean's family time, Sam insisted that he come along. He even offered to pay.

Even though Castiel drew the line there, Dean's brother rocks.

Of course, he tagged along anyway and is, and from what Dean can tell, having a pretty good time hanging out with him and his geeky little brother. Much to Dean's dismay, the two of them have been dorking out about whatever it is nerds love.

"So the whole Mars being closest to the Earth on Saturday is all a sham?" Dean asks, trying to participate in the conversation.

Castiel gives a solemn nod. "To my knowledge, there have been no signs of irregular sightings. Not to mention there would be some kind of news report on it by now. I believe someone has fooled you."

Bored, Dean tunes out the conversation when Sam says something else, opting instead to just look at Castiel, who doesn't seem at all intimidated by talking to a guy who works a million floors above him. He obviously didn't shave this morning, but then again, he never looks like he shaved when Dean sees him. His hair is still messy, and his lips look totally chapped again, like he never uses them. Naturally, the thought sets Dean's mind on the path of what they would look like wet and swollen, or wrapped around a big, thick-

"Here's your bill, sir," interrupts the waitress, snapping him out of his daydream. Have a nice day!" She smiles and sets the cheque down on the table between them.

"Oh. Thanks," Dean replies as all three of them reach into their wallets to grab their share.

As they walk out, Sam tells him to wait for him in the car while he makes a quick run to the bathroom. Dean grunts as he opens the door to the Impala, unlocking it for Cas.

"He can't wait ten minutes?" he grumbles. "Christ."

"Perhaps he is hoping to run into our waitress again," suggests Castiel. "He was staring at her the whole time she was near our table."

Dean turns to look at Castiel with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?" At Castiel's nod, Dean can't help but chuckle. "Damn, I didn't even notice. Sammy, you dog, you!" He grins as Castiel tilts his head and looks lost.

"Sam doesn't act like a dog."

Dean laughs at that, if only because Castiel looks honestly confused as to why Dean would compare his brother to an animal. "You only say that because you've never seen him attempt to get laid," he explains. "You should see him when he goes out to bars, it's a riot." He smiles at the memory of Sam getting his first number from a girl when he once visited Dean at The Roadhouse, all stuttering and smiling like a loser. Dean was so proud.

The memory sparks an idea that Dean can't shake, once it occurs to him. "So, listen. To make up for ditching last time, Sam and I are going out tonight. Wanna come?"

Castiel only blinks and parts his lips before closing them again, and Dean struggles to ignore the ache in his chest that comes along with the rejection. When Cas looks away and opens his mouth again, and nothing comes out, Dean tries to make the moment less awkward. "It's okay if you can't - it's short notice and you're probably really busy with your work and stuff and-"

"I'd like that," Castiel interrupts, blushing. "To come, I mean." Castiel looks straight into Dean's eyes as he says it and somehow Dean just knows that Cas means it, isn't just pulling his leg to seem polite or anything. But then Cas's last sentence hangs in the air and both of them feel their cheeks get a little warmer. He tries to correct himself again. "T-To go to a bar with you. Of course. You and Sam." Stumbling over the words, Cas pauses again to look out the window to the busy street outside. "I... rarely socialize with anyone outside of my family. And you. But I..." He turns back to look at Dean, completely serious again. "I like spending time with you."

Dean feels the blush come back at least tenfold. What the hell does he say to _that_?

"Yeah. I like you too, Cas," he murmurs. Flustered, he looks out his own window and tries to ignore the fact that his pants have gotten a little too tight since the conversation started. What he really wants is to turn around and tell this incredibly odd man sitting in the back seat of his car just how much he likes him back, but Sam chooses that moment to knock on the window and hold up a phone number with a grin.

Another time, then.

Dean is totally not fidgeting while he waits outside for Cas to show up. Not at all. As it happens, it's really cold out tonight. It has nothing to do with the fact that Cas said he would be there at ten, and it's nine fifty-five. Visions of getting stood up and laughed at, or of a pale man in a trenchcoat getting mugged, may or may not be slowly filtering into Dean's mind.

Or it could just be that it's just really fucking cold.

"Your prom date didn't ditch you, did he?" Sam asks as he walks outside to stand with Dean, drinks in hand. Dean grabs the bottle of beer and takes a swift gulp before punching Sam in the arm. Sam retaliates by kicking him in the ass and running back inside like a five-year-old girl.

"You bitch, Sammy!" Dean yells as he turns around and flips the bird at Sam's back, only to jump when a low, growling voice speaks behind him.

"Dean?"

"AH!" Dean drops his drink in surprise and spins around. Castiel is standing right behind him with his typically neutral expression.

"Holy shit, Cas, are you a ninja?" Dean asks as he wipes at some beer that spilled on his sleeve.

In response, Cas shakes his head. "My apologies. I did not mean to scare you." Dean might be going insane, but did he just see a smile?

He scoffs. "You didn't scare me. I just wasn't expecting your sneakiness. How long have you been here?"

"I just arrived. I don't know this area particularly well, and I think I took a wrong turn at one point. But I left early, so I think I am on time, yes?"

Dean glances at his watch and whistles with approval. Nine fifty-nine. "And still one minute to spare. Not bad." He pats the other man on the shoulder and leads him towards the entrance to The Roadhouse, smiling the whole way. "So tell me, Miyagi, what's the beer for you?"

Cas wrinkles his nose and Dean can't help but sigh inwardly at how cute it is. "I don't much care for beer," says Cas. "My brother Gabriel is forever trying to make me drink it and I cannot say that I like the flavor. It doesn't stop him from making me drink five cans in one sitting, though."

Thinking that Cas's entire family sucks, Dean laughs as he sits Cas down at the bar. "Well, what drinks _do_ you like?"

Cas looks away and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't really know. The drinks Gabriel gives me always taste good, but he never says what's in them."

From the sounds of it, it doesn't seem like Castiel's brother has been serving him tequila or Jack. Nodding, Dean calls Ellen over. "Girly drinks, huh? Gotcha. Ellen! Two Paralyzers, if you please!" She shoots him a quick smile before moving to fill a glass with ice.

In the meantime, Dean turns to face Castiel. "If you don't know what to order, always start with Paralyzers. They're easy to make and taste pretty good - just Kaluha, vodka, milk, and Coke." Cas nods intently as though each word spoken by Dean holds great intellectual value, but Dean stops him when he moves to grab his wallet. "First one's on me. Enjoy it."

Smiling, Dean passes Ellen the cash as she pushes the drinks towards him and Castiel. Surprisingly, Castiel doesn't recoil or wrinkle his nose all cutely when he takes a sip, so Dean guesses that he likes it.

"Good?"

Castiel nods and keeps drinking. Half the glass drains on the next sip, and Dean has to step in. "Woah, dude, take it easy. You get drunk a lot faster when you drink through a straw, and that shit's nothing but sugar."

Castiel widens his eyes slightly and pushes the glass back a bit. Dean just laughs and when Jo walks over to them, a sly grin on her face, Dean orders them both a Gladiator as Cas finishes off his other drink.

He tells her to give Sam the bill when she sets them down. She nods and can't help but smirk at Castiel, who's looking at the drink with curiosity. Leaning over, she whispers, "So this is your big girl-crush, huh? Not bad... I can see what you mean about the eyes."

Dean rolls his eyes but smiles back. "What can I say? I have good taste."

Before Jo's even turned around again, there's a clack as Cas finishes his drink and plunks the empty glass down on the bar, looking at Dean with that small smile again. "That was also very good," he decides. "I think I like the drinks you're picking out for me... What else will I like?"

Dean hopes Cas doesn't notice how red his face gets when he turns that gorgeous blue gaze on him. He swallows and orders him an Angel's Fall. It's going to be a long night.

"... and that's why I can never go back to Disneyland," Dean slurs, hours later, as he knocks back another beer. Cas nods with glazed-over eyes, apparently caught on Dean's every word. He hiccups and Dean starts laughing loud and uncontrollably.

"Oh for the love of... Sam, would you take them home, please? I don't want these two idiots passing out here," shouts Ellen as she clears the empty glasses off the bar. The tone is far kinder than the words, but drunk is drunk. "By the way, I expect that tab to be fully paid off by the end of the month, unless you start dropping by more often. We haven't seen you in ages, boy - it won't kill you to say hello once in awhile."

Sam smiles at her and grabs Dean by the shoulder a little harder than necessary. "Come on, you jerk, it's time to go home. You too, Cas."

Dean grumbles out a "bitch" and Cas stumbles along behind them until Dean extends his arm and wraps it around Cas's shoulder, pulling him in to their drunken parade. Somehow, Sam manages to lead them all outside towards the Impala and opens the doors for them, shoving Dean into the passenger seat with a little less grace than usual. Castiel remains standing and looks completely confused as he digs around in the pockets of his trenchcoat.

"Strange... I could have sworn... I mean... my house keys are not set right. Right set." He pauses and hiccups again. "That is, they are not where they should be." He digs in his suit pockets instead. "I seem to have mis... set... lost them somewhere."

Amused, Dean turns around in his seat and smiles. "Whatever, man, you prob'ly just had too much to drink... why don't you just crash at my place tonight?"

Cas stares at him for a minute with wide eyes as though the thought had never even occurred to him. "I... should probably not, I mean... really?"

Dean nods and motions for Cas to get in. "Seriously, dude, it's no big deal! Now get in here, before Sammy throws a hissy fit!"

With Sam glaring at them both, Castiel attempts to get in the car as carefully as possible, as though it's some kind of intense challenge. Which, come to think of it, it is.

Once everyone is safely inside the vehicle, Sam backs out of the parking lot and Dean blasts Van Halen from the radio, singing along with David Lee Roth the whole way back. Twenty minutes later, they wave goodbye to Sam as he heads home in a cab. Dean takes Cas by the shoulder again and starts leading him inside the building and up the stairs to his tiny apartment.

Watching their figures disappear inside the apartment building, Sam figures that if he goes to work a bit early, he can leave Castiel's keys on his desk in the morning.

The cab driver asks how the night is going and Sam replies, "Just fine, thank you," but Dean is _definitely _paying for lunch next time.


	2. the family dinner

Dean doesn't quite remember how this all started, but as Castiel's tongue slides up against his own, he decides he doesn't really care.

They haven't even made it out of the kitchen yet. Vaguely, he recalls wanting to drink some water so as not to get a massive hangover in the morning, but the next thing he knows, Castiel's warm body is pressing up against his while his hands run everywhere along the other man's back.

The counter digs into him as they kiss, but he ignores it. "Nng... god, Cas..." he moans as Castiel grinds his erection against Dean's. He sucks on Cas's tongue and the other man growls, reaching up to thread his fingers through Dean's short, spiky hair and crush their mouths together.

It's not perfect, but it's fast and hot and Dean's still trying to wrap his head around how this is actually happening. He'd invited Cas in, told him to toss his coat on the couch, and led him into the kitchen where he'd gotten a drink and started talking about something or other... He'd leaned in close at one point. Maybe he was telling Cas about his eyes (_gaaay_) or something embarassing like that, which somehow led to their lips smashing together.

And now Cas is shoving his leg between Dean's thighs and, _Oh..._

Cas growls as he sucks and kisses his way down Dean's neck, repeating Dean's name over and over like a prayer while Dean squeezes his ass and bucks his hips up against the intruding leg. When Cas slips his hands up and under Dean's t-shirt to feel the hard planes of his stomach, Dean decides that now is as good a time as any to lose some clothing. He pushes Cas back a bit and starts unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he can. Meanwhile, Cas drops his blue suit jacket to the floor and leans up to capture Dean's lips in another fucking intense kiss.

Dean finishes with Cas's buttons and breaks from his lips just long enough to pull his own shirt off. Cas is in the middle of undoing his tie, but stops and stares at Dean's naked chest. His face is red and Dean can't suppress the shudder that runs through him when he sees a pink tongue slip out the other man's mouth and lick his lips.

Dean smirks and reaches over to help Cas finish with his tie when the phone rings. Castiel pauses and looks over towards the living room, but Dean ignores it and presses his lips to Cas's collarbone while he pulls the unbuttoned shirt off.

"D-Dean... shouldn't you..."

"Mnn... this is more important. They'll call back," he murmurs against flushed skin.

Gasping, Cas wraps his arms around Dean's body, pulling him closer. Dean presses a palm against Castiel's tented crotch and smirks when he elicits a loud moan from the usually quiet man. He does this until the phone goes to voicemail, and just as his fingers find a zipper, a low, nasally voice that makes Dean's blood run cold echoes out from the living room.

_"Dean-o, my boy, why are you doing this to yourself? I can keep this up for months and you know it. One conversation, really... Is that so unreasonable? I know you're there. Come on, boy, you can't be making nearly half as much at that redneck bar of yours, and I've got this part that is just made for you. So pick up the phone and-"_

Bolting into the living room, Dean hits the delete button as fast as he can, breathing hard and hoping to god that Cas didn't hear anything. The happy fun feelings from earlier disappear.

"Dean?" He swallows and turns around to see Cas staring at him with worried eyes. "Are you all right? You ran so fast you almost fell."

" 'm fine," Dean says, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just some loser I've been avoiding for awhile." Cas stares at him some more but doesn't say anything.

"Perhaps we should go to sleep for the night," he finally suggests. "I..." Cas trails off and Dean blushes. Honestly, he'd rather continue right where they'd left off, but Alistair's voice has him shaken up a bit and Castiel apparently sees it.

"Right. You have a morning job. Yeah. Uh. Ok." Dean runs a hand through his hair and moves to show Cas to the bedroom. "You take my bed, I can crash on the couch."

Cas stops and shakes his head. "Dean, no, I couldn't. This is your home and I've intruded without any notice. I can take the couch."

"Are we really doing this?" Dean grumbles, but then he grins. "Obviously we're sharing, then. I warn you, though: I kick in my sleep."

At this, Cas smiles. "Very well. I should warn _you_, then: I punch."

"Where have you been all my life?" Dean asks as he digs through the drawers to find some sleeping clothes.

He unplugs the phone before going to bed that night.

Dean's fridge is a little on the empty side this week, so the next morning they go to Denny's for breakfast. The hangover they both share is nothing that can't be fixed with a couple cups of coffee and a huge plate of greasy food. Except for the fruit bowl Cas orders, it's all perfectly unhealthy in spite of Cas's best efforts.

They talk about their families, about their jobs. About anything, really, that comes to mind. Dean finds out that Castiel is the youngest of eight children, religious but not quite to the same extent as his parents. He's been working as a tax accountant for five years and likes _Desperate Housewives_. In turn, Dean tells him that his parents died young, which is why he's so close to Sam; he doesn't believe in any kind of religion,although more power to Cas if he's into that; he got a job working with Ellen at the bar last year after a sudden career change; and that he's actually Batman.

They do not talk about last night.

Dean almost chokes on his orange juice when Cas tells him his family is the Novak family ("Seriously, man? Aren't you guys, like, the richest family in the world?" "Don't be ridiculous, Dean. We're just the wealthiest family in the state.") and tries to think of something equally cool about himself when the waiter refreshing their coffees pauses to stare at Dean.

"Uh. Can I help you?" he asks nervously, even though he's pretty sure he knows what's coming.

The waiter flushes and finishes filling the cup. "S-sorry, I thought... you look very familiar." Blushing again, the kid dashes off to the back before Dean can say anything.

Predictably, Castiel tilts his head. "That was very strange. Do you know that boy?"

Dean shoves some bacon into his mouth. "No." He doesn't have to guess how the boy knows him; he probably visited a local "video" store and saw Dean's face plastered on the cover of one of Alistair's fucked up productions. God damn it. The day had started off so nice, too.

Hoping this never comes up again, Dean starts Castiel off on another topic of conversation. He really likes Castiel. Even if he acts like a Martian sometimes, he's a good man. Somehow, Dean doesn't think it'd go over well if he told Cas that he used to star in hardcore, gay sex films.

Then again, if Cas doesn't even know what to order at a bar, then Dean's ninety eight percent positive that he's never been in a porn shop; but ever since the birth of the internet, there are a lot of things Dean can't count on.

When the bill comes, Dean asks if Cas has Facebook. Cas looks at Dean as though he's grown another head. "What's a Facebook?"

Dean figures his secret is safe for now.

-

Despite the fact that they didn't talk about it all morning, Dean's mind keeps wandering back to last night, and Cas's lips against his, the touch of his palms against his skin... Maybe Dean thinks about it a little harder when he takes a shower, but give him a break, he's only human.

He dicks around the apartment all day, feeling restless and eager for the week to end. At one point, just to get out of the house, he runs to the gas station down the street for some milk and noodles; but it doesn't make him any less anxious to see Cas again.

_For Christ's sake, you only said goodbye to him three hours ago, grow a fucking pair, already._

Hoping to calm himself down, Dean takes a deep breath and puts on some Zeppelin. He flops onto the couch and closes his eyes, trying to catch a nap before heading to work in a few hours, but he dreams that Cas and him are wrestling with Luchador masks on.

When he wakes up, Dean decides not to eat any more gas station noodles.

He also feels as though his relationship with Castiel has intensified. Weird.

-

"So, was he gentle?"

"Shut up, Jo."

"Did he gather you up in arms and carry you off like Prince Charming?"

"I said, shut up, Jo."

"Inquiring minds need to know, Dean. Who was on top?"

Dean clears his throat. "Hey, everybody, did you know Jo stuffed her bra until she was seventeen?"

Jo socks him in the stomach and walks away. Score one for Dean.

Despite Jo's teasing, Dean has honestly been unable to think of anything except Cas since his shift started. Ellen was really on his ass about last night and how he shouldn't corrupt such an innocent, which only made him think of things that were most definitely not safe for work. He tries to keep busy all night, losing himself in customers and cleaning the place up like there's no tomorrow. It's not working, but he gets an A for effort, at least.

Regulars come in, a few new faces give the place a shot, and he's only got to kick two people out before the last hour of his shift creeps up on him. The place is almost empty, and he's clearing glasses from a table across the room while humming along to the radio. Brian Johnson tells him to listen to the money talk and his head bobs along to the rhythm.

"Dean."

"Sweet mother of-!" He jumps and barely manages to keep from smashing the dishes on the floor. Cas just stands there watching the scene with his usual straight face, and Dean's shoulders slump in exasperation. "You'll give me a heart attack if you keep that creepy ninja thing up."

Apparently, Cas disagrees. "If anything will give you a heart attack, it'll be all the processed food you like so much."

Dean grumbles and tries not to show how happy he is to see the little nerd again so soon. "Why are you here?" he asks, trying to play it cool. "Still can't find your keys or something?"

"I came to see you," answers Cas. "I wanted to speak with you about something."

"You couldn't call me?"

"I did, but it seems you are not particularly fond of answering your phone." Cas arches an eyebrow and Dean coughs.

"Right. Well. Okay then, I just need to-" Turning to look for Ellen, instead he sees Jo wave from behind the bar with a smile. Bratty as she is, it looks like she's got his back this time. Dean mouths_ thanks_ and leads Cas out the back exit.

"So, what's up?"

Weirdly, Cas doesn't meet his eyes. He also moves his hands around far more than normal. He fiddles with his tie, and then with his coat, and keeps rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look," says Dean, getting impatient, "I know you want to say something, so spit it out, man."

Cas looks at him for a long moment, as though he's searching for something hidden in Dean's face. Eventually, he takes a breath and speaks. "I've been thinking about... Wondering, really, about you and I... last night..." He pauses, trying to find the right words while his face reddens considerably. "We became rather intimate with each other. And while I understand why you didn't want to talk about it this morning, it's been on my mind all day and, well... We _were_ quite inebriated last night, and I admit that I... I could not stop thinking about it until I found myself back here again. So I was just wondering if you might be partial to trying again, though perhaps not under the influence, and perhaps following a meal that does not come from a restaurant you visit almost daily - not that it's a bad thing, but Anna tells me there are nicer places to visit with people you care for and I just-"

Dean tries to stop the verbal torrent before it can get even more embarrassing for either of them. "Dude. Are you asking me out?"

Castiel slaps a hand over his face. "It would appear so."

His eyes are closed, so Dean figures Cas can't see the huge fucking smile that's spreading across his face. Slowly, he reaches out and touches Castiel on the shoulder. Cas takes his hand away and looks up. His face is a mixture of hope and sheer terror. Dean's never wanted to hug someone outside his family more in his life. So, he does.

"Gimme a time and place, man. I'll be there."

-

As far as dates go, Dean and Castiel don't do anything out of the ordinary.

There are a few times that Cas tries to take Dean to the high-class restaurants recommended by his brothers, but the small portions of funky-tasting food are way too expensive for Dean's tastes. Not to mention, the dress code requires him to wear stupid itchy clothes he hasn't touched since Sam's graduation. So the fancy places are a bust.

For some weird reason, Cas keeps insisting that people are supposed to do more on dates than hang out around bars and make out when they get home. Which is totally new to Dean, but whatever. If Cas is so intent on wooing him correctly, so be it. They go to the carnival, where Dean fucking owns all the games and wins Cas a million stuffed animals. Cas, being Cas, gives them away to the little kids who flash their sad eyes and crocodile tears; except for a stupid pig with wings. That one, Cas refuses give away.

"It reminds me of you," he says.

Dean bristles. "Are you saying I'm a pig?"

"Pigs are some of the smartest, cleanest animals in the world, Dean. Everyone knows that."

"So... no?"

When they go on rides that roll and tumble and go upside down at rapid speeds, way too high in the air for Dean's liking, he totally doesn't cling to Cas for dear life; and if Cas is smiling the whole time, it's for other reasons altogether. Really.

In addition to the bars and the making out and the carnival, Cas also insists that they do things Dean likes, because he wants to get to know Dean better and share his interests. So Dean works a couple extra shifts and gets them both House of Blues passes to see a few decent bands fronting for Neil fucking Young. A few of Dean's friends are there, too, and as lame as Ash, Andy and Chuck are, they all get along great with Cas and keep them in drinks all night. The show is amazing, and it's one of the better nights of Dean's life, even when Cas admits that he doesn't actually care for music that much. He says that he prefers to listen to the sounds of the world going on around him, or listen to Dean, and Dean finds he's okay with that.

Oddly enough, their best date is the one on which Sam intrudes. Because Sam is really a little girl trapped inside a giant man's body, they go to the local cinema to see some stupid Julia Roberts movie.

Or rather, Sam sees the movie. Dean is busy with his hand around Castiel's dick, giving him the handjob of his life beneath the cover of his trenchcoat. When Dean runs a finger over the slit, Cas cries out as he comes; the whole theatre takes it as an okay to start bawling.

"Seriously, how gay can they get?" Dean asks as he licks his fingers clean. Meanwhile, Castiel watches with rapt attention beside him.

So, yeah. They _can_ do normal dating things.

-

There are, however, a few things that aren't perfect about the whole relationship thing. For instance: the fact that, despite the hot make-out sessions, the handjobs and the fantastic blowjobs (it turns out that Castiel's lips are much softer than Dean originally thought), they haven't actually had full-blown sex yet.

Seeing as how he and Cas started dating in October, and it's now December, Dean finds this a little odd. He's not a whore(anymore) or a sex-addict or anything; he's just used to trying the relationship thing after sex, not before. It's really weird. Not that they don't get close to it, either, but they keep getting interrupted before they can get to the good stuff. Dean thinks maybe karma is paying him back for pantsing Sam that one time three years ago, but Cas says it's just coincedence. Whatever.

Cas also possesses the raw ability to burn anything he touches when in the kitchen, even water (which Dean can easily overlook, being the awesome chef he is), and their work schedules always conflict. Plus, their arguments always seem to end with Cas getting his way, while Dean eats the god-awful, burnt cherry pie.

But the worst of it is the secrets. Dean hates to test Castiel's patience, but there's a lot about Cas he doesn't know. It's hard to fish for information when Dean himself has left out parts of his life, though it doesn't make him any less curious. Or rejected, when Cas brushes him off or changes the subject, as though he doesn't trust him.

In fact, Dean makes a list of all the things Cas won't talk to him about. It goes a little something like this:

1) His family (sure, Dean knows their names, but he got those from TV)  
2) His past relationships  
3) His past, period.

Dean tries not to let it bother him - really tries. To make up for it, he tells Cas everything about his family and friends, and where he grew up, and why he likes Cas so much more than anyone else he's ever been with. And Castiel knows that Dean hates the secrets, hates the way Cas swallows up his questions with kisses instead. But he still doesn't spill the beans, and it drives Dean nuts.

Eventually it ends in a nasty fight,and Dean almost caves when Castiel tells him he has no right to accuse him of secrecy, when Dean also leaves out important details about parts of his life. Loudly, Dean asks how Castiel knows that Dean is making things up, to which Cas angrily responds that he knows Dean's body well enough to recognize his tells. To that, Dean has no comeback other than to ask how that's possible, since they haven't even fucked yet.

Honestly, he's not too surprised when Cas kicks him out. He might have deserved that one, even though it's the truth.

What does surprise Dean is when Cas calls a few hours later to apologize, and invite him to dinner with the Novaks next weekend. As it turns out, getting mad once in a while is good for the relationship thing.

Dean won't be shocked if they never have sex at this rate, though.

-

"Dude! Why didn't you tell me I was underdressed?" Dean hisses as Castiel leads him through the biggest fucking mansion he's ever seen. There are a whole bunch of people standing around chatting and sipping wine, and not one of them is wearing jeans. One woman's dress looks made up of children's tears. And probably costs two times Dean's annual salary. Including tips.

"You are perfect as you are, Dean," says Castiel, squeezing his shoulder. That's fine for him to say; the guy is only ever in jeans on the weekend. Dean fidgets and looks down at his T-shirt, flannel and jacket. Cas said it was going to be a small get-together, and to dress casually. Dean suspects that Castiel doesn't understand what the words "small get-together" and "casual" actually mean.

Thankfully, Cas leads him into an empty room just when Dean feels that people are beginning to stare.

"This isn't a cult meeting, is it?"

Cas shakes his head and seats himself on a large, expensive-looking couch. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier. My family does not have meals the way 'normal' families do - for them, 'supper' is more like a dinner party."

Dean tries not to choke as he sits down beside Cas. "I really wish you would have told me sooner. I would have worn a suit or a tie... or a shirt with buttons... or pants without holes in the knees." He gulps and looks around the room, taking in the elaborate paintings, the walls, the furniture that definitely wasn't made in China. "I mean... this is worse than _Pretty Woman_! I'm scared to touch anything."

Castiel puts his hand on Dean's shoulder again, which usually never fails to calm him down, and reaches the other over to touch Dean's face. "Dean. Do not lower your opinion of yourself because of this. You are a good man. I know this. To me you are perfect." Lowering his voice slightly, Cas pulls Dean's head forwards so that he is staring straight into his eyes. "And I would not have you any other way."

And hell if that doesn't go straight to Dean's cock, which, hello, not really the best time.

"Doth my eyes deceive me?" calls a smug voice from the doorway. "Castiel, you slick fox, are you about to get lucky in the coatroom?"  
Standing, Cas pulls his hand away from Dean's face and releases his shoulder. "Gabriel," he says.

Gabriel Novak, Dean notices, is a lot shorter than he looks on TV. But then again, Dean has only ever seen him on the news and celebrity gossip channels, throwing wild parties with the most random people, crashing movie premiers, saying things you generally shouldn't say on television, _et cetera_. At the guy's birthday party, Dean swears he saw a sherpa dancing with a lumberjack in the background, but since a flamingo flew into the camera right after, he can't be too sure.

"It's been way too long since I seen you, little bro," says Gabriel with a smirk. "I thought maybe you ran off with a herd of ostriches or something. Not to mention, it's been ages since your last visit. Why the sudden change of heart, I wonder?" When he turns to Dean, he narrows his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. "You look kinda familiar, bucko. Have we partied before or something?"

Well, guess those bisexual rumors are true, then. "Uh, no," Dean says slowly.

"Hmmm... you sure? Because I pride myself on remembering faces." Appearing to think very hard, Gabriel adds, "For some reason I can see yours doing something like-"

"There you are!" A beautiful, red-haired woman Dean recognizes walks in just in time to derail Gabriel's train of thought. Dean has never been more grateful. "Hey guys, Michael and Lucifer are argui... oh. Hello there." She stops mid-sentence when she notices Dean. Her thin body is as graceful as a nymph's, and she flashes a beautiful smile at him. For the sake of politeness, Dean smiles back, though he wonders if she's about to mistake him for one of the servants or something. She walks forward and holds out her arm, hand dangling at the end of it. "I'm Anna," she announces. "What's your name?"

Dean glances at her hand and then at Cas, who seems to be giving the woman the mother of all death-glares, and then back at her. "Oh, uh... Nice to meet you. Name's Dean." Not wanting to be rude, he shakes her hand and lets it go after just a few seconds. It's kind of a dead fish handshake, but maybe that's a rich people thing.

Cas, in the meantime, doesn't withdraw his laser-like stare as she tilts her head at Dean with a confused look that he is beginning to recognize as a Novak trademark. Apparently he's done something wrong already, because Gabriel is snickering in the doorway while Anna raises an eyebrow at him.

Damn it, Cas was right - he shouldn't have pushed him about his family. He isn't socially prepared for this.

"I'm, uh... not really used to this level of fancy. Sorry," he says, feeling his face heat up.

Luckily Anna just giggles and shakes her head. "Don't be nervous. We're all people here. Except Gabriel, he's an animal."

"Hey!"

Anna smiles again and stares at him with big brown eyes. "So what are you doing here, Dean? You don't look like you're one of the usual supper guests. Are you-" She stops when Castiel suddenly steps in between her and Dean, obscuring Dean's sightline with the back of his head.

"Dean is with me. I invited him." Is it just Dean, or does Cas sound angry?

Glancing back and forth from Dean to Cas, Anna seems more confused than ever. "Wait, so... he's your..."

"Boyfriend. Yes." The silent _back the fuck off _is not lost on Dean.

A look of realization flashes across her face. "So when you asked me about where to take a... oh." She blushes and Dean almost feels bad for her. Nobody really stands a chance against his sexiness. It's a curse. Anna starts to back away, smiling a awkwardly. "That's great! I mean. Yes. I'll, um. See you at dinner. I need to..." She hesitates before totally bolting the scene.

Gabriel, who is also, apparently, a ninja, is suddenly right behind Dean. He claps him on the shoulder with a big shit-eating grin on his face. "Man, I haven't seen Anna or Castiel that flustered since the prank with the sheep! Good show, man. I approve."

"Thanks?"

Sighing dramatically, as if no one can understand the demands of his life, Gabriel huffs, "Well, I have a kitchen to raid and waiters to fuck. Catch you guys at dinner. Keep it PG, Cas!"

Castiel swats his older brother's hand as it ruffles his hair. "Don't call me that," he grumbles, and Dean is immediately reminded of Sam.  
Gabriel just plants a sloppy kiss on Cas's cheek in response, before running off, though he somehow manages to sneak in a grope at Dean's ass. Cas is unamused.

Leaving Dean standing, he groans and sits back down, rubbing his temples. Dean takes this as a sign to not ask anymore questions, but he's curious about a few things now. "How is this a coatroom? There's no fucking coats."

"That's because this is the secondary coatroom. I told Father I would only come if it was a small, intimate gathering. A one-coatroom gathering, if you will."

Dean nods and decides to just roll with it. "Right. of course."

He sits back down beside his boyfriend, which is still weird to say considering Dean's never called someone his boyfriend before. Even if they've been dating for three months, and he doesn't know what Cas would be, if not his boyfriend. That isn't really the issue at hand, though. He asks, "Why didn't you tell me you don't like being called Cas? I would've stopped."

Castiel puts his hands down and looks at Dean like he's missing the obvious. "Because you're the only one I like to hear it from."

Maybe 'boyfriend' sounds about right, after all.

-

Forks and spoons forks and spoons, dear Jesus, _whyaretheresomanyforksandspoons?_

The other people at the table are eating like it's completely normal to use an entire dish set at a time, and they're all dressed like movie stars, and there's stupid cheesy classical music playing in the background. Dean is_ freaking the fuck out_.

It doesn't help that he's seen almost everyone here on one high-profile television show or another at some point. Castiel's siblings alone are like a ticker-tape of who's who.

Michael Novak (douchebag) is supposedly going to be the new State Senator in the next election; Uriel (douchebag) is a top-rated UFC fighter; Zachariah (huge douchebag) owns approximately a million businesses (most of which he got through blackmail, bribery or murder, according to rumor); Gabriel is famous for being famous; Anna is an international supermodel; and Lucifer, who's rumored to be the head boss of the city's cruelest mob syndicate, just scares the shit out of Dean.

To top it off, Raphael (megawatt douchebag) is sitting right across from him. And is apparently some kind of bodyguard/hitman for hire.

Yeah.

Dean should probably pick his fights better, especially when Raphael once made a guy explode, according to Zachariah.

_Explode._

How the hell Castiel is related to these people is the mystery of all mysteries to Dean - or, as Sam would say, a riddle wrapped inside an enigma wrapped inside a taco. Suddenly, Dean doesn't blame him for not wanting to talk about his family. If Dean were related to models, Mafia dons and State fucking Senators while he was just a tax accountant, he wouldn't want to talk about them, either.

Sammy is different. Dean has bragging rights because he practically raised Sam, and the kid worked harder than anyone to get to where he is today. Not that Dean would ever tell Sam that, but it's the truth.

Suddenly, he misses his little brother. If there was one person who wouldn't have such a hard time sitting with these people, it's Sam. He'd be right at home with the fancy clothes and the business talk, would probably shake Michael's hand and become BFF's with Lucifer or something.

And he would definitely know which freaking fork to use.

Thankfully, Cas is sitting beside him and gently puts a hand on his thigh. "Start from the outside in and you'll be fine," he whispers behind his wine glass. Dean could kiss him, but doesn't because the Novaks are already giving him the stink eye. Table manners being what they are, he doesn't particularly need a price on his head - not that Raphael isn't already planning it.

"So, Dean, tell us where you work again?" Zachariah asks, turning everyone's attention towards him.

Looking like the deer in headlights he very much feels, Dean manages to answer, "I, uh... I work with a family friend downtown. She has me tend the bar five or six nights a week" He hopes his voice is steady, at least.

"A bartender. Fascinating," smirks Zachariah as one of the servants pours another glass of wine. Even the fucking hired help looks classier than Dean. Fantastic.

"Dean is very good at what he does," Castiel says, glaring at Zachariah.

Zach chuckles and takes a drink. "I'm sure he is."

"Where did you and Castiel meet?" Anna pipes in, staring at Dean's face with a far different smile than Zachariah. Hers, fortunately, seems polite and interested. Dean would feel grateful, were it not for the rest of Cas's family.

"Yes Dean, where did you meet our youngest brother?" Raphael adds. Dean can _feel_ the threat, as well as hear it.

He swallows. "Well, Cas works in the same building as my brother, and we kept running into each other whenever I went to visit Sam. Eventually we got to talking, and... Then we just started going out."

"Who is your brother?" Michael asks, suddenly interested.

"Sam Winchester," Dean says with a smile. It's almost crippling, how much he'd rather sing Sam's praises than talk about himself. "He's a tax lawyer there."

"You don't say." Lucifer leans forward, though Dean doesn't like the look in his eyes at all. "Which floor does he work on?"

Dean can't hide the pride in his voice as he says, "The top floor," but Lucifer just responds with a, "Hm. Interesting," and a smirk to rival Zachariah's.

He goes back to his meal, and suddenly Dean feels a little uneasy. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up his brother to one of the most dangerous men in the city.

Meanwhile, Uriel snorts. "Top floor? How many people did he have to sleep with to get there?" Dean's not stupid: he knows they're all making fun of him, but if it keeps Castiel on their good side, he's willing to put up with it.

He is not, however, going to put up with them making fun of his brother. Just like that, Dean's scared smile and nerves disappear, replaced with a bitter glare and anger. "No one," he all but spits. "My brother worked hard for his job."

"Oh, sure he did. Sure he did," Zachariah assures him, and Dean's never wanted to punch someone more than he does right now. Making fun of him, he could understand - it's obvious that Cas is a little out of his league - but talking smack about Sam is way below the belt.

Judging by his expression, Castiel seems to agree. "Samuel Winchester is one of the most honest, dedicated men I have ever had the honor of meeting," he snaps, for the benefit of Zachariah and the rest of the table. "He has never lost a case, even when judge and jury were... persuaded to consider other options. I'm sure that's something you know nothing about, Zachariah." Fixed with a deathbeam stare, Zach says nothing and takes another drink instead. But Cas isn't done. "His brother is no less of a good man," he bites out, favouring Dean with a small smile when he turns to nod at him.

Dean reaches under the table for Castiel's hand, and gives it a squeeze. Castiel's reluctance to talk about his family isn't embarrassment, Dean figures; it's fear. Well, he hopes it's fear. Because honestly, Dean is scared shitless of these people, and the way they're treating him like scum and pretending like Castiel doesn't even exist disgusts him.

Castiel is better than them. He deserves better.

"So, Cas, you're saying your lover is a good, hard-working, honest man, are you?" Something about Raphael's voice sends shivers down Dean's spine. Not in the good way, either.

Glowering, Cas nods at his older brother. "That's exactly what I am saying."

Raphael smiles and leans back in his seat. He calls one of the servants over and mumbles something in her ear, and in response she nods and quickly walks away. "That's quite interesting, Castiel," Raphael says lazily. "Because, you see, I've heard otherwise about Mister Winchester, here." Somewhere in the gigantic dining room, a door opens. Motioning to Lucifer, Raphael continues. "It's rather funny how small the world is, when you think about it. The other night Luc and I were out on the town, expecting another dull evening in some club or another - but then he introduces me to the most delightful filmmaker! You should have seen my expression when, as it turns out, we both know someone by the name of Dean Winchester."

Despite the feeling of his stomach plummeting to his feet, Dean hears footsteps ring out in the suddenly quiet room. Raphael turns to him with cold malice in his eyes. "I wonder, Castiel... Just how honest has he been with you?"

The footsteps stop directly behind Dean's chair and he thinks his heart stops. His eyes widen and he forgets to breathe when a cold hand settles upon his shoulder. He turns around to find Alistair smiling behind him, and he wants to throw up.

"Been awhile, Dean-o. I've missed you, my boy."

Castiel frowns and tilts his head at Alistair as the servant from before grabs another chair and leads him to a spot right across from Dean.  
For once, Dean is absolutely speechless. His worst fears are coming true right in front of him, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. And all this time, Castiel's tried to give him so much of himself. He took Dean to see a family of which he wanted no part, just because Dean didn't know when to drop the issue, and... He's about to lose him.

Raphael's smirk is bitter cold. "I told you I would get you, boy. I told you."

Seemingly oblivious to Dean's misery, Lucifer motions for someone to fill Alistair's glass and smiles at the director. "Al, it's been too long!" he exclaims. "How are ya?"

There is nothing but absolute glee in Alistair's voice when he responds. "Oh, I'm just fantastic. In between productions at the moment, but the next one is scheduled to start as soon as I find my lead act." He chuckles and Dean's hands clench into fists. "Actually, that's why I'm here. I heard Dean was over, and since I've had no luck getting him to pick up a phone, I figured a face-to-face intervention was for the best."

He sips blood-red wine from the glass in front of him as Anna looks between him and Dean with curiosity. "Wait," she asks, holding up a hand, "you know Dean? How?"

Alistair turns his head and looks into Dean's eyes, smiling in just the way Dean was trying to forget. In that smile, he sees every violation and humiliation that was heaped upon him before he got out of the sex industry, and shakes his head, not caring that everyone in the room is looking at them. From the corner of his eye, he sees Cas looking perplexed.

"Alistair, don't..." Dean whispers, shaking his head, his voice cracking. "_Please_... _please don't_..."

His former employer takes another sip and licks his lips. No chance of that happening. "Dean, used to be my number-one star, you see. He was - still is if he agrees to this new deal - my favorite. The adult film industry is a hard business to get into, and even harder to... come out on top." Alistair pauses, enjoying the turn of phrase. "But my boy Dean is a born natural."

If there is a god, Dean wishes he would open up a giant hole in the ground to swallow him up.

He doesn't look at Castiel.

"He was with me for years, actually," continues Alistair, unfazed. "Productions featuring Dean are always the first to sell out. You can see why, though... He really is quite the looker, wouldn't you say?" Alistair laughs and finishes off his wine. He turns to address Dean directly, though his voice is still more than audible to the other guests. "Now, I know you said you were done, but I'm telling you, Dean-o, this part was written with only you in mind. The payoff is also... well... Let's just say you wouldn't have to step behind another bar again for years. What do you say?"

Alistair's question hangs in the air without an answer. Dean can feel a dozen pairs of eyes on him, drilling into him. The room is drowned in silence that seems to go on forever.

"Dean...?"

He can't look at Castiel. He can barely keep breathing.

Slowly, he looks from Alistair, to Raphael, and then along to the rest of the family. He fully expects to see expressions full of shock and disgust, and maybe even an order to get out. He does not expect all of them to be smirking at him.

A woman at the end of the table, who Dean recognizes as Castiel's mother, raises her drink in the air. She laughs, "A toast to Castiel. As unremarkable as he is, he never fails to bring us such great entertainment. Cheers!"

Almost everyone in the room follows suit, and from the corner of his eye Dean sees Castiel lower his head in shame.

At that moment, Dean gets it. The people around him are laughing their asses off at him and drinking their stupid wine, and _they knew his secret the whole time_. The smug looks he's getting from everyone, save for Anna and Gabriel, disgust him. Dean can't remember the last time he's felt this ashamed and angry.

Castiel has been holding his hand up until this point, but Dean lets it drop, and stands slowly.

"When I told you I was never doing that shit again, I meant it," he says, trying not to spit in Alistair's face before turning to his smirking audience. They quiet as they notice him rise, clearly excited for the next big joke to come out of his mouth.

"You all just think I'm some kind of white trash scum, don't you? Some poor-ass loser here for your amusement? Well, maybe you're right. Maybe I am a loser." He takes a deep breath, and tries to keep his nerves from shaking his voice. "But if you think I'm gonna just stand here and let you humiliate me, hang all my dirty laundry out for everyone to see, and insult my brother, no less?" He pauses, trying to stay calm. "You can take your silver spoons and shove 'em up your ass. I'd rather be a loser for the rest of my life than have to spend another second with you people."

He pushes his chair out of the way and turns to leave, but a warm hand wraps around his forearm, stopping him.

"Dean... I..." Castiel trails off, staring up into Dean's eyes. He looks hurt and sad and everything he should never be.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean says, meaning every word. "I shouldn't have brought you into this... I... _I'm sorry_."

Dean pulls away and rushes out of the room as fast as his legs will carry him.


	3. truth

Dean takes the battery out of his phone and doesn't replace it for a week. When he misses lunch, Sam calls the landline, so Dean unplugs that, too. He also doesn't let anyone into the apartment, no matter how many times the buzzer sounds.

He tried going to work the day after the dinner fiasco, but Ellen took one look at him and said, "Honey, you look like you should be on the other side of the bar tonight. With the way you drink, I just can't afford that," and sent him home with the instructions to come back when he looked like he wasn't going to kill himself.

On the way home, a newspaper page landed on his windshield. Apparently it was the front page, since there was a huge picture of him and Cas plastered all over it. The headline read: "**Novak Son in Scandalous Affair with Male Porn Star! Read about it on page 5! Also, Herpexia: Cure, or silent killer?**"

Fucking peachy.

-

On the Monday that Dean goes back to work, he's shocked to see it's busy.

"Apparently someone found out a famous guy works here," Jo tells him, when he asks. "Who knew you'd be good for business?"

He doesn't say anything back, just goes behind the bar and starts taking orders. Frowning at him sadly, Jo walks off to help some people sitting at the tables. Dean ignores the looks he's given and the questions he's asked, and only takes orders and cash. The numbers on slips of paper get brushed onto the floor and forgotten.

Dean is wiping down the bartop when a voice says, "An Angel's Fall, please."

He hasn't spoken to Cas since that night and, quite frankly, feels way too ashamed to even think about calling him, even though he wants to. Just to hear his low, gravelly voice at least one more time would be more than Dean could ever ask for, and for a moment Dean thinks he's hearing things. But as he turns around to face the voice, he's greeted by the nicest blue eyes he's ever seen.

Castiel is looking at him expectantly. Dean doesn't know what to say. He thinks he says something like "sure thing", but isn't certain. The whole time he fixes the drink he feels Castiel's eyes on him, and isn't positive he's mixed it correctly when he slides the glass across the bar.

Pushing some cash towards Dean, Castiel accepts the drink and looks up. Dean doesn't even bother to pretend he's not staring as Cas puts the straw between his lips and sucks it back .

"You are very good at what you do," Castiel says, running his fingers over the cold, wet glass.

"I messed up," says Dean, meaning the drink.

"Seems good to me," Castiel responds, meaning something else.

Dean looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I should have told you a long time ago," he bursts out, dropping the subtext. "And I shouldn't have pushed you about your family. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," Castiel says, almost before Dean's finished with his apology.

Dean stands still for what feels like a long time, while Cas continues to sip on his drink. "I quit my job you know," he says suddenly.  
"What? When?" Dean's eyes widen.

"Last week." Castiel pushes the ice cubes around in his glass with the straw.

"Why'd you do that?"

Cas lets out a huff and lets go of the empty drink. "I hated it there. Do you want to know the reason I started working there? My family insisted that someone needed to take care of the finances." He scoffs. "Michael needed me to run numbers for his campaign budgets, Lucifer needed me to calculate his "clients'" debt and interest, and so on and so forth. Raphael asking me to cheat for him was not the first time I'd been asked for that particular service, either; it was merely the first time I refused."

Cas looks up at Dean and smiles sadly. "I wanted to be a police officer when I was a child. And yet, I've broken the law more times than I can count, simply because my father and brothers told me to. What does that say about me?"

Dean reaches over and places one of his hands on top of Castiel's. "Says you're a damn loyal son and brother to me."

Castiel chuckles and closes his eyes. "Somehow, I do not think they share your sentiments, Dean."

"What makes you say that?"

"The last words I said to them were somewhere along the lines of, 'You all disgust me, find someone else to do your dirty work, I don't think I belong in this family, goodbye'."

Whatever Dean was going to say next dies on his tongue. "You... you said that... to your family?"

"Or something very similar to that," Castiel confirms with a nod. "I can't really be sure, I was rather terrified at the time."

Dean laughs dryly. "Yeah. I get that." They don't say anything for what feels like forever, until Dean clears his throat. "So, uh... why'd you do it?"

Castiel looks up into Dean's eyes and puts his other hand on top of Dean's. "Why do you think?" Dean says nothing and swallows. Castiel tilts his head. "Is it so hard to believe?"

Suddenly finding a spot on the counter incredibly interesting, Dean and scratches at it with his free hand while avoiding Castiel's gaze. "I dunno, man, I ju-"

"I love you, Dean."

And he can't stop himself from looking back into Castiel's open face, into those intense blue eyes that he could drown in.

"You stood up for me when no one else ever has, told me I was making the right choices in my life when everyone else told me I was being ungrateful. You let me experience things I never thought I could." Standing now, Cas reaches over to touch his hand gently to Dean's cheek. "I love you, Dean, and I don't care if everyone else in the world tells me I shouldn't. I choose you over them without any regrets."

And Dean doesn't know what the hell to do now that he's heard _that_, so he slowly raises a hand to touch the one against his face. Leaning closer to the strange man he tried to help all those months ago, he whispers, "I love you too, Cas," and the look on Castiel's face is possibly one of the greatest things he's ever seen.

Then Cas leans over the bar and kisses him. Dean would totally be embarrassed, but he's kissing him back way too much and too hard to don't even break away when the whole bar cheers and people start to clap, though Dean didn't realize that they had an audience. He's all too happy to have Cas back in his arms when he'd thought he'd lost him for good, and from the way Cas is clinging to him, he thinks he feels the same.

Then Ellen tells him she's got a business to run and drinks to serve, and there are people at the front door with cameras. She orders him to break it up and take it home, even though his shift doesn't end for another few hours. He gives her a hug and leads Cas out the back door, laughing as they run towards the Impala.

-

The door barely shuts before Castiel's lips crash against Dean's, and if the tongue invading his mouth has anything to say, he's missed him. Dean's arms find themselves wrapped around Castiel's body, and he kisses him back with all the intensity he can muster as Cas moans into his mouth appreciatively. The next thing Dean knows, hands are on his ass, pushing his hips forward and squeezing. Grinning, Dean nips at Castiel's lower lip, rolls his hips forward and relishes the sound that escapes Castiel's mouth at the action.

Cas slides another hand to the back of his head and forces Dean to look straight at him. "_Bedroom_. _Now_."

Dean doesn't think he could protest, even if he wanted to. Without any apparent effort, Castiel is more or less shoving him back towards his room, and Dean feels his dick harden at the thought of how strong the smaller man really is. It gives him ideas.

A loud creak sounds as his back hits the mattress. Dean backs up only a few inches before Castiel flings his body back on top of him, and swollen lips find their way back to his. Trying to get as close to the man on top of him as he can, Dean moans and arches his back.  
Castiel grinds down and breaks their kiss long enough to growl out, "Clothes. Remove them _now_."

With no choice but to obey, Dean hastily reaches down to pull off his jacket and t-shirt, flinging them both across the room. He's trying to unbuckle his belt when a warm hand moves his own away to take over.

Castiel has somehow removed all of his clothes already, and is, apparently, tired of waiting for Dean. Even though his fingers shake and fumble a bit, Cas manages to get the belt unhooked. He looks up at Dean with a practically feral look and yanks his jeans off.

Dean feels his breath coming in quick bursts, and shivers as he toes off his shoes and socks. Castiel is crawling back up his body, a little slower than before, but licks his lips as he stares into Dean's eyes. Never more turned on in his life, Dean elicits a gasp when Castiel's lips find his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before repeating the process a little lower down.

His hands runs all along Castiel's body, feeling the surprisingly firm muscles beneath the skin. Dean's fingers twist in dark messy hair and he can't stifle the loud moan that escapes when Castiel runs his tongue over his left nipple. At the sound, Cas pauses for a moment and looks back up at Dean's expression. Staring down at him from beneath hooded eyes, Dean lets out a whimper as Castiel quickly moves his lips back to the small nub, while his other hand up to pinch and roll the other between his fingers. The hand Dean raises to cover his mouth gets slapped away.

"I want to hear it. Every sound you make as we do this. I want to hear all of you, Dean," Cas whispers as he switches his mouth and fingers around, wetting the right nipple eagerly with his tongue.

"God Cas..!" Dean moans again and the hand on Castiel's back tightens.

Castiel smiles appreciatively and leaves another set of marks all over Dean's chest until Dean grips his shoulders and pulls him up, panting for breath. "Lie down, Cas... I want to do something for you now..."

Without complaint, Cas does so, though his eyes never leave Dean's. He leans back and rests his weight on his elbows, sitting up just enough to watch Dean with fascination in his wide blue eyes.

Dean runs his tongue over his lips. He leans forward and presses his head down between Castiel's legs, planting kisses all along the inside of both thighs. Castiel groans and places a hand on Dean's shoulder, which sends another shiver down Dean's spine and straight to his aching cock. He parts his lips and lets his fingers wrap around Castiel's dick while his tongue laps at the weeping head. He feels the edges of Cas's nails dig into his shoulder as he starts to stroke his fist along the shaft. When Castiel moans loudly as Dean's tongue dips into the slit, Dean smirks and opens his mouth to take the whole thing in, one hand moving lower to fondle Cas's balls.

"_Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean..!_" Cas repeats over and over as Dean takes him deeper, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks him down. In the meantime, his tongue never stops, and as Castiel's cries become louder and louder, he prepares himself to swallow down as much as he can.

Castiel however, seems to have different plans. He pushes Dean's shoulder away with his right hand, reaching out to cup his face with the other. He pulls him up to face him and the sight of him so flustered and raw almost makes Dean come right there. "Not yet," he sighs. "I've been waiting for this a long time... I want to savor it."

Nodding, Dean and leans up to kiss him again. Their cocks brush against one another and they both cry out. "Which... which way do you want it?" Dean asks in between pressing his lips to Castiel's.

"I... I don't know..." If possible, Cas blushes an even deeper shade of red and looks away from Dean. "I... have not actually gone this far with another man before..."

Dean's jaw drops a bit in surprise. "The hell do you mean you've never been this far? You sure seemed to know what you were doing up 'til now."

Castiel huffs and rubs the back of his neck. "I've had a lot of time to think about this, alright?"

"Amen to to that." Dean grins as Cas shoots him a disapproving _you shouldn't blaspheme in bed_ look. "Well, whatever man, it's cool. Just let me take care of it."

Winking at Cas, he crawls over to the side of the bed. The drawer sticks at first, but somehow Dean manages to get it open and grab the lube. He looks over his shoulder to find Castiel leaning comfortably against the headboard, watching Dean's every move, and Dean can't help but smirk as he opens the bottle and pours some onto his palm. He rubs his hands together and sits up on his knees.

"Gimme a few minutes, I haven't done this in a while..." he says quietly as he reaches behind himself, slowly running his fingers down along his ass to find the right spot.

He shivers slightly as a finger rubs up against his hole, pressing against it for a few seconds before finally pushing in. Castiel gasps a little at the sight, but from his expression Dean doesn't think he minds in the least. He does his best to keep eye contact with Cas as he keeps prepping himself, and moans a little louder than usual when he lets another finger in and crooks it into his sweet spot. When Castiel grips the sheets beneath him with such intense restraint, Dean grins a little on the inside. He finishes with the third finger and figures he's as ready as he'll ever be.

Lube in hand once again, he crawls towards Castiel, straddling his lap and just barely brushing his dick again. "You ready for this, Cas?"

Castiel growls up at him and steals the lube from his hands. "You have no idea."

Dean licks his lips while Cas slicks his cock up and tosses the bottle onto the floor. He leans down and kisses him again, shuffling a bit closer to make it easier, and Castiel groans when Dean reaches down to guide the other man's dick to his entrance. Dean swallows the sound with a kiss and lowers himself into Cas's lap.

Moaning Dean's name, Castiel's hands find his hips instantly. His fingers press down tightly, as though he's caught Dean and is never going to let him get away again, and Dean takes a breath and lets his lower body fall until Cas is completely inside him.

"God, Cas... feels so full with you inside me..." Dean moans, lifting up a bit and dropping down again. "Nngg..._Cas_..!"

Castiel cries out when Dean repeats the action, and bucks up reflexively. The whimper Dean lets out as Castiel's hands push him down to meet his rising hips is absolutely sinful, and Castiel never wants to hear anything else other than Dean's voice again. Especially when he starts talking, eyelids fluttering with each downward movement he makes.

"Feels so fucking good, Cas, I swear, need you inside me all the time, fucking me just like this..." he whispers and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to the man below him.

The burning in his thighs is all but forgotten when Cas lifts up particularly hard and slams Dean's prostate when he pulls him back down again. Dean lets out a silent scream and falls forward onto Castiel's chest, catching himself by grabbing onto the other man's shoulders. He pants and looks up into piercing blue eyes which are looking at him with so much intensity he almost comes right there.

Castiel holds him in place and thrusts his hips up into Dean with long, slow strokes, ignoring his pleas of _harderCasohgodpleaseCasfuckmeharder_. Every time Dean reaches down to touch himself Castiel thrusts into him and slaps his hand away.

"I've wanted this... I've wanted _you_ for so long, Dean... too long..." Cas growls out as he continues his torturous pace, holding Dean in place to prevent him from rocking back into him. "I've seen others look at you... Anna, that waiter, people from the office... they want you, Dean... they all want you like this..." He thrusts up. "But they cannot have you. No one else can. No one else will watch you like this... I am the only one who will see you like this now, here at your most vulnerable." Another push, even deeper than the last. "I will not share you Dean. I want you all to myself. No one but me."

Dean sobs as Cas finally pushes him down again. "No one but you, no one else but but you, _oh god Cas please I need_-"

"What do you need, Dean?" Castiel demands as he strikes Dean's prostate again.

"You, only you _againagainpleaseCas!_" Dean begs.

Castiel stills one last time and reaches up to pull Dean's head closer. "I love you so much, you have no idea..." He doesn't let Dean reply before he fucks into him three times as hard and fast as he did before.

Despite Dean's cries and moans, Castiel is the one who comes first, Dean's name on his lips. The feel of hot liquid pouring into him sends Dean right over the edge barely seconds after. White streams paint Castiel's stomach and before he can clean it off, Dean collapses against him, groaning as the cock inside of him softens and slips out with a soft _pop_.

They're hot, sweaty and out of breath, and Dean figures he's definitely going to feel it in the morning, but _holy shit _was it worth it. His face is pressed against Castiel's chest, where he'd collapsed and he feels way too lazy and comfortable to move just yet. Even as Castiel starts to talk to him, he can still hear a heartbeat beneath a strong, hard chest and smiles.

"Dean... I... need to tell you something else..."

"Whazzat?" he mumbles while pulling up the blanket.

Castiel pauses for a moment and places a hand on top of Dean's shoulder. "I knew about your past... with Alistair. I knew about it even before you stepped between Raphael and I."

Dean's eyes, which had almost closed, were suddenly wide. "What?"

Castiel takes a breath and squeezes his shoulder nervously. "A few years ago, I went to visit Gabriel for the holidays. We had a few drinks at his place, some stupid laughs, and somehow he convinced me to watch this video he'd just bought. I protested at first, but Gabriel is... very good at persuasion. It was one of your earlier films, before you joined with Alistair... and I couldn't look away from you. You were something special... someone different. You were in this film, with thousands of people watching you and putting you under a microscope and yet... it was like you were looking straight at me. You were gentle and careful and I almost believed you actually wanted to be there... I know I did."

He blushes and looks away, fingers trailing up and down Dean's arm. "I bought a lot of your work, actually."

Dean's a little torn. One one hand, he's horrified that Cas knew this whole time and hadn't said anything until now. On the other hand, Dean's really sick and tired of drama, and he doesn't want to lose the awesome post-_best sex in years _feeling just yet. So he laughs instead. It _is_ kind of funny to think about Cas trying to gather the nerve to go into a porn shop. "No way."

Castiel turns the darkest shade of red Dean's ever seen and continues. "This was almost two years ago. I... I hated my job. My coworkers, my boss, the pressure from my family, the work itself... I couldn't stand it. So one day I went downstairs with the full intention to either quit or run in front of a bus. And then I saw you..." Castiel stops again and stares up at the ceiling, remembering every last detail of a day long past.

"You were laughing. Sam was beside you and you were laughing with him. For the life of me, I couldn't move. I couldn't believe you were actually there in person... I wanted to say hello, start a conversation, anything to get your attention. But then you leaned up and kissed Sam on the cheek and he was blushing and you were laughing again...and I..."

Dean reaches out and touches Castiel's face the same way he's been touched just a few hours ago. "I used a fake name when I worked."  
Castiel nods. "I couldn't think of anything else but you for a week. I completely forgot about leaving my job... I asked around about Sam and learned that he was this amazing lawyer, who worked hard for everything and had a heart of gold to top it all off... It was rather unpleasant to hear, actually. Then the same time next week, I went downstairs again. And there you were."

Dean sits up to get a better look at Castiel, totally floored by this revelation. "So that whole window watching thing... you were just bullshitting me?"

"Yes."

Dean really needs to stop underestimating Castiel's ninja talents. He's good.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Dean sighs and tries to absorb everything that's happened. "I didn't plan on doing that stuff at first, you know," he admits. "My dad died and I was barely old enough to take care of myself, let alone Sammy."

Dean rolls onto his back and stares at the lone painting in his room. Sam made it in high school and gave it to Dean for Christmas. It was supposed to be Ozzy Osbourne, but Dean thinks it looks more like Harry Potter on a bender. He loves it.

"I tried to give him all the shit every other teenage kid is supposed to have. I tried. And we got by okay... But then he he had to go and get accepted into that big, stupid, expensive university. The look on his face when he read out the fucking tuition... I couldn't stand it, man." He lets out a deep breath.

"One day some guy walks up to me and offers me five hundred bucks for a few pictures with my shirt off. So I agree and we go back to his place. Then he says he'll double the price if I lose the pants, then triple it if I lose the boxers." Dean shrugs and moves to rest his head against Castiel's chest once more. His stomach flutters when Cas puts an arm around him possessively.

"Eventually I just found more guys like that. When someone said he was a filmmaker, it just escalated from there. They didn't even say anything when I told them my name was Tony Iommi." Dean sniggers for a moment before going quiet again. "That stuff with Alistair... It was the worst time of my life. I made money, but it was horrible - I never want to go through it again. And I won't. I managed to get Sammy enough money to send him off and get his supplies, and I quit right after. Sam's no slacker, though; he worked hard and tried to do all these odd jobs to help... I can't even explain how proud I am of that kid..." He trails off, smiling. "I know I'm not perfect, and I've done a lot of shit in my life. But Sam's happy and on top of the world now, and I wouldn't take any of it back."

Castiel smiles beside him and leans his head over to claim his lips in a sweet and tender kiss. After a few minutes, Dean is the first to break for air. "So, are we good now? Any more confessions?"

Cas shakes his head. "I think that's it."

Dean nods "Good. Good." A smirk slowly spreads across his face as he sits up and runs a finger through the remains of the come on his stomach. "So... I'm kinda dirty. And my shower's big enough for two... Wanna be a good Samaritan and save some water with me?"

As if he had to ask, right?

-

It's fifteen minutes to noon on a Tuesday. Dean is sitting in his car in the parking lot, drumming his fingers along to April Wine while he waits. Sam is the first one to get there today.

"I swear, I have no idea how Gabriel manages to pull off half of the stupid shit he does. I've been prepping his case for weeks, now, and it's still not enough to find a loophole."

"That's what-"

"If you say _that's what he said _one more time, I'm gonna smack you."

Dean grins. "Oh what, you guys didn't give into the throes of passionate romance yet? For shame, Sammy."

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam whines, aghast. "You have no idea... The guy is way worse than Gertrude. I swear, if I wasn't going out with Jess, I think he'd rape me..."

"What makes you think he's not going to anyways?" Sam stiffens up and shoots Bitchface #42 - _You're not funny, Dean_ - his way, and looks out the window. Dean isn't fazed. "Is your latest client-slash-stalker out there yet? I told him where the good seats are, wonder if he took my advice?"

"Bite me."

Dean smiles and turns up the radio. Another ten minutes pass until Castiel taps on the windows and Dean unlocks the door for him. He leans over his seat as Cas gets in and plants a big gay kiss on his lips while Sam makes a face at them. Dean smacks him on the back of the head as he moves back into his seat.

"How's work?"

Castiel shrugs. "They still have me doing secretary work, but rookie training starts in a few weeks. The chief said he would save me a spot on the roster."

"So we're buying donuts on the way back, then?"

"The jelly-filled and sprinkled ones would be most appreciated."

Dean reaches back and squeezes Castiel's knee while Sam smiles beside them. He starts to back the car out, and since he's feeling good, he turns on the _Cops_ theme song as they speed off.

When Dean accidentally misses the turnoff for their usual dining spot, Castiel laughs and Sam, jumping on the opportunity, suggests Mucho Burrito. Dean threatens to kick him out of the car.

In the end, they decide to just follow the road and see where it takes them. It's a good idea until the road suddenly merges with the main highway and leads them to the other side of town.

Next time, Dean thinks, they'll just go to a freaking McDonald's.

-

THE END.


	4. credit is due

So like I said I did not write this story. The true author goes by the username **nox_wicked. **

She is responsible for this tale. Thanks for reading


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